Two Little Girls
by Everlane
Summary: They were kids swinging during recess with their small hands on rusty chains, surveying who's the best looking boy and who wasn't. Quinn felt like Santana was going to be her best friend, but like always, it didn't turn out that way. Pezberry.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee_

* * *

**Two Little Girls**

They were friends once.

Little kids swinging during recess with their small hands on rusty chains, surveying who's the best looking boy and who wasn't.

Quinn felt like Santana was going to be her best friend.

At six, she met her in church when the girl recently moved to Lima from Los Angeles. Her new friend was quiet, but had a mean spark just like her. They were inseparable. The most popular girls in Jordan Elementary, with the richest daddies in the whole town. Everyone wanted to be like them or be their friends, but Quinn just wanted only her.

She had this dream of she and Santana taking the town by storm, and being like those cheerios in McKinley High. She wanted to continue their long talks under warm blankets in her home, laughter over tamales at Ms. Lopez's house, and walks all around town near the finest boutiques. She wanted to continue feeling like she could show Santana the whole world, and rule it with her. But that didn't go as planned, life never did.

"I like that boy."

She wasn't sure, one thing they were trying to pick out the cutest boy in the park while swinging then the next, Santana pointed at a smaller girl standing alone. She was far away from the group of kids in the park, her dark hair caressed by gentle winds as she kicked the grass by the tree. Quinn froze, but tried to tell herself that her friend had a sense of humor.

"I said, I liked Karofsky." Quinn said slowly, her brows furrowing at the forlorn look on the girl's face. "Member, Tana? We're supposed to pick out the cutest _boys_ in the park. Not cutest trolls. Or _girl._"

Her friend didn't point anymore, but kept on swinging herself, deep into thought as rusty chains went back and forth. Quinn suddenly felt sad that this happened, then she got angry that her friend wasn't talking to her. So she quickly got up and smoothed her bright shorts down, glaring coldly at the other girl. "That's nasty, and I'm not your friend anymore."

As she ran to find another kid to pick on, it tore her when Santana simply continued to swing herself, and later abandoned the swing to walk over to the loner kicking the grass.

* * *

They were fourteen.

They were in high school now, but Santana never became the cheerleader they both planned for her to become. She was still the rich girl with the good grades. Still had that no bull shit attitude, but now she had a quick tongue because their dads were always at each other's throats now as well as their mother. She screwed no one, for as long as they didn't try to screw her.

It pissed Quinn off that things didn't go the way they did, so she made herself feel better by saying mean things about the two who conversed by the locker. She'd try anything. Threw slushies and spat insults at the hobbit, earning fatal fights with her old friend, and even indulged in the cruel gossip that seeped through the school around them. Most times she even paid more attention to what her dad said about the two, agreeing with the conversial things that slipped out his mouth.

It's the only thing she could do to make herself feel any better than them, but it didn't work in the end. She only felt more bitter and angrier than before.

Santana's dark hair fell past her shoulders, glossy and smooth, with her face flawless and lips shimmering with gloss. In her purple shift over boots, she leaned against the locker while an alert Rachel Berry animatedly spoke to her in her usually high pitched voice. To others, Santana's trademark expression was a scowl or a bored look, but for Rachel, it was a smile considered a rare treasure.

Rachel tip toed to peck the other girl's cheek, rousing laughter from the other cheerleaders with her. _Dykes. _They thought they were being slick, but everyone knew something else was going on. She laughed too, just to get at them, primped in her uniform in the center of the small group. But Santana didn't mind the mocking. She gave the small brunette a long warm hug before she lead her to class, the two of them vanishing amidst the students crowding the hallway.

* * *

The more time passed, the more she hoped her old friend would crack. She was eighteen, and supposed to be wiser. Quinn felt that she was only a worse version of the troubled teen in the beginning. Maybe on the last day of school, she'd get an epiphany of how fucking dumb she was being, but she doubted that would come. She still hoped though.

She had a new boyfriend. Matt Rayson. She didn't really like him because he always smelled like tobacco and sweat with Axe spray on top, but he was the best jock and she the best head cheerio. It's expected they keep up with the social ladder. She let him fuck her as much as he wanted because she wanted to feel this hole filled up in her heart, or feel any close to what those two do, but it never worked.

She was still empty.

Santana was always happy as long as she was with _her. _There was nothing Quinn could do to make herself feel as if being the most popular girl was the greatest thing in the world. _Nothing._

One early morning, she came to the gym locker room after class to prepare for early morning practice. She was always the first because she had to set an example for the others. So she was there reapplying her lip gloss because her coach didn't like washboard faces during practice.

She heard something quiet, like smacking, before she rounded a corner to see them lip locked with the small one against the lockers. It was slow and gentle, with the little one's hands over the nape of Santana's neck. Quinn didn't know what was going through her head, but she hid herself a little and used her phone to snap a picture.

The next morning she thought about what she did and almost deleted the picture, but then seeing Berry with Santana got her frazzled again, so she shared it with her friends on Facebook. Then she got a little more mad at the image of the two doing something else in the privacy of their bedroom, so she shared the photo on Twitter.

In three minutes, it became a sensation.

She saw Rachel slushied relentlessly by the jocks the next day, and at one time, one of the teachers in the school had to protect her from a group that was following her. She saw her sob over the phone in her car once, her eyes red rimmed and tearful before a older man walked up to her car and drove her home. Santana was no where to be found, so she assumed that she was too embarrassed to even come to the school.

Her boyfriend told her he loved her, and in this height of victory, she lost herself in the moment and spent hours with him in her bedroom. She had this idea that she finally got them, but once Matt turned over and began to snore, it all came back. The dark hole. _Emptiness._

One morning on March 31st, a week after the photo came out, she was walking down to College Chemistry class when a force shoved her hard against the lockers. There were gasps, then she heard yells for someone to stop hitting her. Usually when there's a fight, most would cheer on. But this time, everyone was either petrified or hysterical because she felt like her face was on fire.

By instinct she turned and hit back, not realizing who it was until she saw her old friend. Angry and furious in a form fitting shirt over dark jeans. They fought before, but this time, even those around them knew that this was going to involve blood. And it did. Santana slammed her by the lockers, she pushed back, but the girl came for her again, her face twisted in fury.

Sorry almost came up, but she chalked it down because she didn't owe _shit_. She fought as hard as she could, oblivious to the blood that rushed down from her nostrils when a blow threw her off. Coach Beiste ended up roughly pulling the girl away from Quinn, who continued to hurl slurs her way, with her hair frazzled and hazel orbs livid.

She _hated _that bitch.

When they see each other during the only class they have together, Quinn didn't like the feeling that her heart was torn open when Santana refused to look at her. She didn't mean to stare, but she just wanted to see the bruise under her eye. It was a deep purple, and the swelling almost took over half of the girl's face.

The hobbit was by her side in the parking lot, with her arms wrapped tightly around her neck. They were kissing again, but this time, it was in front of the whole school. The photo craze was soon gone, because in the end, these girls won by not giving a shit about what the whole school had to say about them.

When prom came near, she saw them again when she left after school practice. They were sitting in front of the almost empty school, laughing together at some joke. She said, "Excuse me," and they unconsciously move aside, still drawn to their talk over small bags of mixed nuts.

She looked back just in time to see Santana steal a long kiss from her girlfriend, catching the brunette off guard. She turned back and kept on walking forward, ignoring the hot tears that trail down her cheeks as she fumbled for her keys.

A while later she saw them through her window. Santana lived nearby in the same neighborhood. It was night time, and Rachel was a giggling mess as Santana slipped her arms around her and pulled her from her car. They were kissing a little, but Quinn could tell something else was going to happen. So once Santana shut the blinds to her room and drew the drapes, turning off the light inside, Quinn went back to her bed to sleep. It's when she realized that maybe it wasn't the friendship that she wanted back.

It was something more.

* * *

It's the day of prom when her boyfriend starts to whisper something in her ear. He told her earlier that she was hot in this lavender gown she picked from one of these beautiful boutiques in the mall, but this time, she didn't like what she was hearing from him.

He pulled back and smiled slightly, his gray eyes glowing a light amber under the dim chandelier about them. He nodded towards the two girls in red and rosette, wrapped up in each other as the music kept them swaying. She nodded quietly, and placed her head back over his shoulder. She didn't like him that much, but he was a good boyfriend for wanting to make her felt better.

Two hours later she didn't like this idea again, but she kept her calm, sneaking long gazes at the burly boy driving in his Grand Caravan with his cronies in the backseat along with a fellow cheerio. The vehicle wasn't as filled with happiness as she expected earlier, but a deadly calm that unnerved her.

"I see 'em."

"Where?" She asked.

Matt pointed over to the small cafe not too far from the car they were in. Quinn leaned forward, tendrils of her hair brushing over the sides of her face. They were strangely ticklish, as if they were those loud voices in her head to stop this shit.

Santana was with Rachel, along with other kids she didn't care about. They were seated around a table behind the glass windows of the cafe, smiling as a blond boy animatedly told a story with his hands.

"Just go ask them for help," He said to her, smirking a little with a glint in his eye she didn't like. "Tell 'em that the car's stolen, then one of 'em should hurry over."

"That's a lot more of a long process to just mess with them." She countered.

He rolled his eyes. "Just get 'em here. I swear we're only just scaring them a little bit. I can't just sit back and see the dyke who messed with my girl like that...she has to pay."

She was in the cafe before she knew it, seriously thinking that Matt was really doing this for her. She ignored the dark looks her way as she walked over, looking deceptively shaken after she used her hand to mess up her hair. Then she saw it. She looked at the Grand Caravan through the window, watching Matt nod with a gleaming object in his hand. His father's baseball bat.

She looked back at the two, watching the way Rachel was so perched over her seat, her chocolate eyes concerned. It didn't matter that she tried to fuck the girl over, because Rachel still looked like she wanted to help her. She made this convincing story about her car being stolen, and she wanted to call the police. Santana shot up from her seat with Rachel, trying to make her stay calm. She was really trying to lure them to quell the voices in her head that told her to stop, but she couldn't.

As soon as Matt was out of view, she stopped the hysterics. Then she gazed at Santana as tears trailed down her cheeks. This time, she wasn't pretending that they came because her car was stolen.

"I'm supposed to bring you to that car outside," She pointed to her Grand Caravan. Matt couldn't see her. "My car wasn't stolen. He wanted me to bring you guys over so that he was going to scare you."

Santana didn't look as shocked as her girlfriend did, but she kept her eyes on Quinn, stunning in her red dress. "You know he wasn't just going to scare us."

Quinn laughed. "Call the police. I'll convince them you're coming. But go the other way." She sniffed, wiping her tears. "I'm not going to jail because of an asshole."

* * *

They don't see much of each other for another five years, because when the girls quickly left through the back of the cafe with their friends, they were out of Lima the next Monday.

Just packed and left for college early in New York.

Matt wanted to do something terrible, and the thought of little Rachel being beaten with that bat was something she didn't want to remember for the rest of her life. She was glad she said something before she did anything stupid. He was in jail for attempted murder because he planned to do this.

The police who came found stuff he was going to use to kill the girls inside the back of his truck. Her father told her that just because he and Mr. Lopez were on bad ends didn't mean she had and try to commit a hate crime. He told her she was a shame, forgetting that she was the one who saved the two girls from being killed.

* * *

Ten years passed.

Why was time going by so quickly?

She's now a disowned member of the Fabray family, because she couldn't live a lie anymore. So she was all the way in New Jersey, living in a small apartment in downtown of Arkton. She went to Firer County College because people told her it was fast and cheap before she could transfer to some university. She expected to get her nursing degree because she honestly liked to help people and make herself feel a bit more of a saint, and live alone for the rest of her life, forgetting that she came from a high end family.

But she met a girl who was supposed to be a quick pass. She didn't really care for her, but life again didn't work the way it was supposed to work for her. The woman ended up snaring her heart in the end. She kind of reminded her of Santana with her nose and dark eyes, but Donita Thildon had a personality and beauty of her own that made her forget the old friend she lost.

She was bubbly, with a heart as big as a galaxy. Quinn told her that once, which made Donita laugh out loud over their small springy bed. She was gorgeous, a dark mocha goddess with a body that was always soft against hers as they made love. She didn't tell her partner much about what happened back home, but Donita was patient, and didn't want to push the envelope. Because of her, the thought of continuing to live a lie back home was more frightening than the dream she lived now.

One morning on Christmas Eve, she gets a letter with a picture inside.

It was from London, and the picture had a laughing baby boy atop white blankets. His hair was a dark raven, with deep brown eyes that reminded her of a little girl who came from Los Angeles. He didn't look much older than three months, but his face was already a symbol of joy. She turned the picture, watching bold black writing scrawled over a corner.

_Without you, he wouldn't have been here. Keep in touch, and thank you. -Santana Lopez_

Quinn quickly stopped looking, because she also found a number there too. Her eyes were burning, but she willed the tears away. She took the postcard and placed it on her fridge, smiling softly at the little baby who smiled back. She imagined another baby like that too, who'd take more about Donita than her.

* * *

_Didn't know what I was writing, but hope you enjoyed it._


End file.
